


Green Ram

by Masoena



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Caretaking, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunk Dean, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Light Petting, M/M, Manhandling, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Sam, Referenced Bondage, Top Sam, implied d/s dynamics, implied potential for more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:15:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masoena/pseuds/Masoena
Summary: Sam Wesson and Dean Smith just like canon know each other on the fringe working in the same office building. When a deal goes awry, Dean who's usually a smoothie drinking health nut seeks solace in a bottle and ends up in the same bar as Sam with his friends, drunk non-sexual shenanigans ensue with Sam supporting Dean in more ways than one involving his suped up Dodge Ram truck and its backseat. There is a lot of fluff, comfort, caress and affection but no sexual content albeit somewhat implied :) Enjoy!





	Green Ram

**Author's Note:**

> So this short fic was inspired by seeing a decked out dark green ram, matte coat with tinted windows on the road in rush hour traffic one evening on my way home from work and how awesome such a car would go with a toppy-ish Sam Wesson / Dean Smith story. This is what came of it once I put it to paper. For now this is a one shot but I could take it further...

Dean Smith always went for drinks, virgin cocktails that is, no use wrecking your health regime with something as lame as alcohol on Friday nights after work. However today was different especially after already killing nearly half a bottle of a rather expensive bottle of whisky one of his business associates had gifted him on his last promotion. He fucked up, for the first time in his illustrious career in the corporate world he got his wires crossed and it cost the company a hell of a lot of money and he was feeling pretty sorry for himself right about now, trying to drink away his worry about the board meeting the following week in which his million dollar mistake would no doubt take center stage. 

It was well after office hours so he left the building without running into anyone on the elevator as he rode it in swooshy silence except for the discreet elevator music that made it far enough into his slightly tipsy brain to have him hum along quietly.  
Walking up to his car, a black 67 Chevy Impala always put a smile on his face and he sat down in the driver’s seat, turned the key in the ignition and with Lynyrd Skynyrd’s guitar solo of Simple Man blasting out of the speakers with the comforting rumble of the car he slowly drove out of the underground parking garage. 

He realized quickly that he may just be a bit too inebriated to drive and pulled over just about two blocks over from the office tower he spent nearly 60 hours in every week when he saw what looked like a good place to get tanked; Pumpjack the sign said. He parked the Impala in the small parking lot next to the bar, careful even in his decidedly drunk state to make sure there were no trees that could sap onto his baby nor plastic monsters (what he called a current year Charger or RAM truck) that could have people swing doors into his beauty of a car. He made a face of disgust at the decked out camo matte green RAM pick up truck in the middle of the lot. Who would drive such a monstrosity he wondered to himself.  
The place looked like an old English pub, mock brown wood paneling on the walls, wood flooring in a similar colour albeit a bit scuffed from wear and tear, windows open onto the patio out front and the inside kept in much the same wood finish. The place was packed full of people but he spotted a free seat right at the bar and as straight as his legs would allow he made his way to that bar stool unerringly.  
All but plopping down onto the bar stool, he immediately grabbed the bar tender’s attention ordering three shots of the best whisky. Do not mix alcohol types his brain reminded him helpfully in that moment. The guy behind the bar flashed a beautiful smile at him, was he flirting with me, Dean wondered. The shots appeared before his eyes within just a minute or so and he made quick work of them downing them in less than a minute tops, asking for another one.  
It was while he waited for the new shot to arrive that he started to take a look around himself. The place was indeed packed with people and had that hum of voices going when there are multiple people in an enclosed space. It was white noise to Dean’s ears, he liked that kind of hum it felt like life to him, like he wasn’t alone in the world. As his gaze wandered around the crow he noticed that there was a significantly higher percentage of male patrons with only about 5 women he could see, four of which clearly were couples. 

Before he could give that anymore thought a black wall appeared before him. “Smith, that you?” the wall of black shirt and dark blue denim asked in an incredulous tone of voice. Dean’s eyes, vision getting blurrier by the second trailed his eyes up and up and up some more until they came to rest on a dimpled smiling face he knew very well. “Whesson, fancy seeing you here.” Dean drawled in response his brain not quite sure what to think of seeing his co-worker.  
“So having a few drinks I see? What’s the occasion, what are you celebrating?” Sam enquired nodding his head towards the three empty shot glasses the bar tender was just clearing away, while replacing them with a new shot.  
“Oh I’m not celebrating Whesson, I’ll be ripped a new one by the board next week but alcohol seemed like a good way to get my brain to stop thinking about that and start my weekend.” Dean definitely slurred now. “Oh and spending time with a co-worker after hours …. Not my idea of a good weekend.” He added with a bite in his tone mostly because he’d been way too candid in his reply and wanted nothing but to backpedal. 

“Okay don’t let me keep you from your self-destruction by means of alcohol. See you on Monday Smith.” Sam said, not convinced the other man realized what kind of bar he had found himself in and then walked away from Dean back to his friends. He thought Smith looked fucking hot, his charcoal gray suit that was tailored just right to hug the strong broad shoulders and sat just so on his legs with a crisp black dress shirt underneath and a silver/black/gray tie in diagonal stripes to finish it off. He was the picture of successful business man, add to that his strong jawline, a bit of 5 o’clock stubble and his sandy dark blonde hair that was styled just so. If only he didn’t have such an abrasive personality. Dean watched Sam walk away to a table circled by happy people, his friends he figured, then turned back around towards the bar, missing the moment when Sam had turned around just before reaching his friends’ table to look at Dean with a bit of worry. Dean was kind of sad to see Sam go, he wasn’t meeting anyone here after all, it would just be he, himself and him followed by more of that in his stylish but cold and luxurious apartment about ten blocks away. Sitting at the bar Dean started a conversation with the bar tender and a guy next to him and he realized that indeed the bar tender was flirting with him if the phone number on the round cardboard coaster he got with his last call shot of the night was any indication. He seemed nice Dean thought and he carefully put the coaster in the pocket of his suit jacket. The guy next to him was a tall burly kind of guy, it took Dean a while to realize he wore leather chaps over jeans. Chuckling to himself Dean thought that was hilarious because of where they were but sexy as all hell. “Anything funny?” the guy asked pulling himself up to his full height, running a somewhat possessive hand over Dean’s biceps. “Love the chaps.” Dean answered straight faced and with sincerity. He really did like chaps and had watched his share of porn both gay and straight involving said piece of clothing without anything under them and he may have ordered himself a pair a while ago which now lived at the bottom and back of his large walk-in closet. “I like your suit and tie.” the guy replied rubbing gentle circles on Dean’s arm. “Wanna take this somewhere else?” the mountain of a man asked. Dean considered for a second but then decided he was way too drunk to go off with a guy who could clearly manhandle him and have his way with him even if he was perfectly sober. “Call me? I’m way too drunk to do much of anything somewhere tonight.” Dean said smiling and handed him one of his neutral business cards. “Fair enough, have a great weekend….. Dean.” The guy said, eyeing the card for Dean’s name as he said so and then sat back down and they both finished their drinks in companiable silence. Dean was glad that the guy respected his answer. 

Dean settled his tab and stumbled out of the bar, definitely bumping a few bodies on his way out of the still crowded place and more on instinct than brain power mumbled and staggered towards baby. He almost made it too, if it weren’t for the fire hydrant he thumped into, bashing his shin painfully against the water outlet valve. He tried to right himself as his center of gravity teetered dangerously forward and took a few steps to try and balance. Despite his valiant and hilariously uncoordinated attempts to not face plant on the sidewalk, he found himself falling with the crummy surface of the sidewalk speeding towards him worryingly fast. There was a strong hand gripping the collar of his suit jacket and an arm snaking around his chest pulling up and tight to stop his fall and slow it down to slow motion. He still landed on the sidewalk but in a gentle descent rather than knock-your-teeth-out velocity. Before he could really figure out what happened, those same hands and strong arms attached to them lifted him back up onto his feet. His left leg screamed in pain as he put weight on it and he yelped out in pain indignantly. “Whoa Smith are you okay?” came a worried voice from behind Dean. He found himself stood up back towards a warm body, one arm still across his chest holding him upright, the other hand still on the back of his neck more just resting there. The fast motion of going down and back into upright under someone else’s power had Dean’s vision spinning and the world going in circles around him and he swayed for a few long seconds. He felt the arm on his check tightening and the hand on his neck move up to his forehead gently pulling him into the body of the person standing behind him. “Okay tiger, take it easy. Just breathe and close your eyes for a second, I imagine your world is spinning right now.” Sam said with a bit of amusement but sincere worry in his voice. Dean let himself lean back, squeezing his eyelids shut to try and stop the world from spinning. It wasn’t helping too much and he felt nausea coming on slowly but surely. He focused on breathing and eventually the world righted itself. Sam had just walked out of the bar himself when he noticed Dean stumbling down the sidewalk to his Impala. Yes Sam knew he drove an Impala because, well he just did, sue me he thought to himself. Knowing that Dean was already way too drunk to drive when he arrived at the bar he took it upon himself to stop him from doing so no matter what it took. He had run after the guy at a slow jog and sped up eating up distance with his long legs when he saw Dean collide with the fire hydrant. He just made it in time to catch the careening man, keeping his handsome face from meeting the asphalt of the sidewalk. Sam’s arms firmly in Dean’s armpits hands connected at Dean’s chest to hold him up. They stood like that for a couple of minutes and Sam started to wonder if Dean had fallen asleep standing up, noticing the older man’s even breathing and how he hadn’t at all freaked out about being mushed up against his IT support co-worker’s chest on a sidewalk in downtown. 

“I… I don’t feel so good.” Dean huffed out softly before going boneless and dropping. He wasn’t a drinker, if you call someone who lives on smoothies a drinker then yes that was him, but alcohol was not his choice of beverage in general and it would appear his body decided that enough was enough. Sam flexed his arms around Dean’s chest and kept him more or less upright, despite the other guy having become dead weight. “Hey Sam, is he ok?” came a voice from behind him. “Oh hey Jack, yeah just passed out on me, he’s not much of a drinker. Coworker of mine, he’d be going beet red right about now if he wasn’t so drunk.” Jack was the burly chaps guy Dean had chatted with earlier in the night, Sam knew him from seeing him around at the Pumpjack. And yes the jack in the bar’s name was this Jack’s name. “Hey can you give me a hand, I don’t want him driving but I also don’t know where he lives, we work together believe it or not. Can you help me get him into the backseat of my truck I’ll just sleep in the truck til he wakes up then take him home. You okay with my car being in the lot and his too?” Sam motioned to the Impala and his own truck as he said all that. “Dude you can camp in the parking lot for all I care, would much rather have that then have this guy behind a wheel.” Jack answered and bent down to grab Dean’s legs. Sam adjusted his grip on Dean and had his head resting on his shoulder while he grabbed more firmly around Dean’s chest with both of his arms. Like this the two men carried smartly clad not-so-in-control business man to Sam’s camo matte green RAM pick up truck. Jack lowered Dean’s legs gently to the ground and opened the doors to the back seat while Sam kept holding on to his torso. Together they carefully deposited Dean on the backseat bench of the truck. Throughout all of this Dean was completely and utterly dead to the world. 

Sam didn’t want to go rifling through his co-worker’s pockets to find his wallet nor did he want to take Dean to his place. He figured if he were in Dean’s shoes either option would freak him out so he decided to stay on somewhat neutral territory. He himself had a few too many drinks to drive anywhere just then, so sleeping it off was a good idea on more than one account. “Hey Sam, make sure you sit in the backseat thought, tinted windows and all, the cops don’t have a lot of tolerance for people sleeping in their cars, whether I’ve okayed it or not.” Jack said, if you need anything I’ll be at the bar for another half hour or so cleaning up and closing up. “Thank you Jack, have a good weekend, see you next Friday.” Sam replied giving the guy a brotherly hug, before climbing into the back seat on the driver’s side of his own pick up truck. He was very glad to have invested in the full crew cab version that afforded him with a deep and broad bench seat as the backseat which was quite comfortable and could easily seat 3 adults. The rear windows of his truck were tinted to the darkest colour legally allowed and he had a body shop do the paint job. The entire truck was a dark camo green in matte finish with all the accents kept in black. It was a cool looking truck and he felt awesome driving it, not caring what some people said about men with big trucks. The only thing not very cool about it was the fuel consumption but he didn’t live far from the office so it wasn’t too bad. 

Dean was snoring softly legs half off the bench, upper body resting halfway across it leaving not very much room for Sam to slip in and sit down. Sam decided to loosen Dean’s tie to keep him from strangling himself in his sleep and slowly loosened the knot and slid it out from around his neck. He then slid onto the seat, adjusted the headrest for his height and leaned back trying to will himself to sleep. He reached that state where you are almost sleeping when he felt something grab and then to come rest on his thigh. As if fluffing a pillow, Dean had grabbed on to Sam’s right thigh, one arm curled under his own torso the right arm over and across Sam’s thigh, his head nuzzling and eventually resting fully on Sam’s thigh and back of his head brushing against Sam’s abdomen, while his feet had pushed off his shoes and long legs curled up against the other car door. Dean didn’t seem awake while he did all that but it allowed Sam to get a bit more space and he wasn’t going to complain if his attractive if up-tight co-worker decided to snuggle on him. He grinned lightly when he imagined Dean’s reaction upon waking but was appreciative of Dean’s subconscious consideration of the leather seats of his truck.  
Not really sure where to put his hands, Sam dropped one lightly on Dean’s shoulder and the other on his own stomach. 

Sam woke up to the chirping of birds, peeling his hazel eyes open it took him a second to get his bearings; Right, drunk Dean, sleeping in my truck, weekend. With that last part of his thought he found himself relax and slowly turned his gaze down to Dean. His head no longer rested on Sam’s thigh but rather was rounded and pushed up along it with both of his arms laying flat out before him, inner side of wrist against the other, hanging half off the bench, fingers clasped lightly. Dean’s tie would look amazing wrapped around those two wrists Sam thought for a second before reeling his own thoughts back in to the situation at hand. Wouldn’t do to get a boner in this situation. 

Sam trailed his right hand across Dean’s soft hair, which seemed to have gotten a mind of its own during the night since it stuck out in all directions. The touch to Dean’s hair got him a soft moan from the older man lying at his side and he continued petting his hair softly, with the intention of waking the guy up gently in case he was still drunk when he woke up or at the least hung over. Sam’s hand travelled down Dean’s hair towards the nape of his neck where he rubbed gentle circles into the freckled skin showing there above the collar of the dress shirt. He wished he could explore further to see if the freckles were everywhere Sam thought to himself. He’d had a crush on surly Smith for as long as he could remember and now that he had seen him at the Pumpjack, who knew what was going to happen. He felt Dean’s breath change against his thigh and slow twitchy movements, followed by a somewhat contained full body stretch as Dean woke up. After a few moments he had two still quite red green orbs looking up at him as Dean strained to turn his head up to see where he was and who he was with. “Morning Whesson.” Dean grumbled eventually, dropping his head back down with a wince while squinting his brows and bringing his hand up to squeeze above the bridge of his nose. The pain of a hangover was evident in the guy’s face. “Good morning Dean.” Sam answered before adding; “How are you feeling?” “Fantastic… urgh… too much whiskey. This is why I don’t drink.” Dean replied voice husky and gravely. “Are you good to drive yourself home?” Sam enquired, hoping for a no. Dean pushed himself up on the bench into an upright seated position and the world wasn’t spinning but there was a pretty violent thrumming head ache that made itself known. “Yeah I’m good, just a headache.” Dean answered and tried to think back to what happened last night and how he had ended up in Sam’s truck. His memory was intact all the way up to the fire hydrant and the warm embrace, god that had felt nice he thought to himself. “So did you bridal style carry me to your truck?” he quipped. “No it was more of a two tall gay guys carrying you to my truck.” Sam replied truthfully. Dean blushed at that, he knew he was batting for both teams and was fairly confident in either but the scene Sam drew with that statement made him feel embarrassed, embarrassed at having lost control like that. “Thanks, Sam.” He replied. “I appreciate you keeping me from kissing the sidewalk.” With that a not-so-comfortable silence spread between them for a few seconds. “So… I’m gonna go. I’ll see you on Monday Whesson.” Dean said eventually, all but scrambling out of the truck door. “See you Monday.” Sam replied sadly, disappointment apparent in his face, had Dean looked back. He did look back but only to see that the green pickup truck he’d felt so disgusted by was the one he just spent a night in. He got into the Impala and turned over to see Sam’s tall frame get out of the back seat, stretch his arms high up over his head, his black shirt riding up showing a ribbon of tan skin and the top of his boxers. He was staring until smiling hazel eyes turned in his direction with a friendly wave of one of those amazingly large hands of Sam’s and he watched the taller man get into the driver’s seat of his truck with a wave in Dean’s direction. Dean closed his eyes and relaxed into the scent of his car and let the night replay in his mind. Aside from the raging hangover he wouldn’t mind things like that happening again, things with Sam he realized and his lips curled into happy smile while floaty happy feelings spread in his tummy. A knock on the window pulled him out of his reverie. “Hey Dean, sorry forgot to give you your tie back. I took it off of you so you wouldn’t strangle yourself in your sleep.” Sam explained pragmatically. “Thanks man.” Dean replied before adding: “So I hear a full American breakfast does wonders for hangovers, know any good places around here?” “As a matter of fact I do. Follow me?” Sam said as he pointed back at his truck. “Lead the way.” Dean replied happily.

**Author's Note:**

> Well guys that is what my brain made out of seeing a cool truck on the road, let me know what you think. Should this be taken further? Thoughts? Ideas of where to take these two?  
> Let's just say there is a lot that can be done with a pick up truck, a toppy Sam and a willing Dean :)
> 
> For those curious, the Pumpjack is a gay bar that exists for real on Davie Street in Vancouver B.C. and featured the kind of crowd described in this story and Dean's adventure ending up there is loosely based on the experience of a friend's ex-boyfriend who did walk into the Pumpjack not realizing what kind of place it was at first.


End file.
